The stupid little inked up pages
by R3dHoodie
Summary: When Scene gets in a bad accident, Intern2 promises to never leave her side. While in the hospital, he keeps a diary of all of his feelings, to keep him distracted, to keep him busy, and to keep him sane. This is that diary. Welcome to a story of paper cuts, romance, and the feeling of never getting left behind.
1. running

Dear Journal,

She's leaving me. One day she's my desk buddy and best friend and the next she's in the hospital fighting for her life. All I have of her at the moment is the multicolored dinosaur that sits atop both of our desks and a picture of her that she hates but I love. Both are currently moved to my work area. It's not fair. She was -**_ is_**, a good person,always smiling and never selfish. And yet that stupid car ran a red light. That stupid car didn't see Scene walking across the road. That stupid car ran my only friend over.

I don't remember much of the call. I remember coming into work and not seeing her there, thinking that it was weird but getting along with my day as normal. I mean, she could've been late, or sick, or doing something away from her keyboard at the moment. God, did I not know how wrong I was. At about twelve I get a phone call and pick it up quickly,thinking it's going to be my raven haired friend explaining herself. It was instead some man,who sounded rather impatient to be making a call like this. I couldn't help wondering how many other calls like this he had to make today, and for once was glad I was just a lowly intern instead of whatever job this man had. He explained the thing to me- twice actually - because Scene's accident just didn't sink in the first time. I remember him hanging up while I sat frozen in my chair,the dial tone in my ear. I barely even heard it.

I cannot do work either. I don't know if it's because I miss her, or she always made me happier, but my mind is completely unfocused since I got that call. A pile of paperwork sits to my left, but until I know what's become of my little Scene I won't be able to do it. It's almost like a pull in my mind, forcing me back to the subject of her.

And that's when I realized, she has _**no on****e**_. She has no support during this horrible time in her life, the time that could literally be spent as her last moments. She's laying in the hospital bed with wires all about her small,fragile body and there's no one to hold her hand and pray for her. It sounds conceited,but I'm the only person she truly has. I guess we're good for each other in that way. We each only have each other. Maybe that's why I'm in love with her. Maybe it's because besides my aunt she's_** it.**_

Without a second thought I grab the picture,the dinosaur and her laptop (left on her desk) and write on a post-it where I'm going,choosing my words carefully so as not to incite fear. I'm out of the office within two minutes and running to the hospital at full human speed. Maybe that's another thing we have in common. None of us can afford cars. See Journal, being an intern means that you don't get paid, which is why I work at Staples on the side and Scene works at some fast-food place. I think I pass it on the way to the hospital actually,and debate on the subject of stopping in and saying something to them. But again,wasting time.

As the cold wind whips across my back, I am full of hate for the person who did this. The man on the phone explained that the driver was drunk, and as it happens more times than not, Scene was just there. Innocently crossing the road to get back to her shabby apartment. And then like the dials of fate just spun around crazily, her moment came. She barely had time to get out of the way as the guy turned the corner. He sped off, leaving her in the street. It was the manager of the store on the corner who found her. Hate coursed through me again. How dare he not even care! How dare he become drunk? How dare he hit her?

If you are wondering what's going on, I'm sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, furiously writing in a composition journal. This is happening for two reasons. Reason one is that the counselor sitting next to me suggested I find an outlet for all the emotions I _**must**_ be feeling. Reason two is much more simple. Reason two is that I'm afraid if I don't get my feelings and emotions out somewhere in this world, I might explode. I 'm afraid that if I don't figure out some way to express the feelings of the last hour, it'll build up and explode like a balloon blown up too much. Because that's what I feel right now, like a balloon with too much air.

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A/N - Hey guys! I hope you liked the first chapter of this story! Please don't be afraid to leave constructive comments in the reviews if there's any errors I missed while editing. Also the schedule for this is tentatively Monday's so hopefully I can get these out on Monday. See you next time!


	2. waiting

Dear Journal,

Surgery. They're putting her through surgery. The nurse I talked to said this is needed, that her stomach was bleeding and this was the way to save her. That's not going to stop me from hating it though. More so than the surgery, I hate the fact that she's put through this while I'm forced to sit out here and wonder. And I can't help but wonder.

I wonder what her reaction is going to be when she wakes up and sees only me in the room. I wonder if she's going to mention her parents, or question why they aren't here. I wonder if she's going to have any other complications. I wonder if she's going to be paralyzed. I wonder if she's going to have head trauma. The part I hate most about the wondering is the not knowing. I read somewhere that most humans fear the unknown, and that's why they fear such things as ghosts and vampires. But that's just child's play compared to the unknown that I'm going through.

Because, journal, she could be dying on that metal table right now and I wouldn't know until they actually called it. I'd have no final chance to say goodbye. The thought of this brings my fingernail to my lips and I start chewing on my thumb, nibbling away at the hard surface.

There's only a few people in this room, however the nurses and doctors are bustling around like it's busy. I hate this. I hate this waiting room mostly because Scene loves things like this. Not hospital waiting rooms. She's weird but not that weird. In fact, I like to think that it's cute actually. Not Hospital waiting rooms. Scene's weirdness. Off topic.

Anyway, Scene loves bustling rooms and the energy that they seem to provide. And therefore, all of the bustling in this hospital only serves to remind me why she's not here with me right now, and that she may never be here with me again. I don't want to think like that. Thinking like that won't help her get off the table anytime sooner and it won't help me not panic. It's only hurting me actually, as evidenced by my now bleeding finger. I've bit too deep. I'm in too deep.

I notice my movements follow a pattern and try to focus on that, getting my mind off of her. Cross legs, Uncross. Chew nails and tap foot on ground. look left and right once for a nurse to tell me any information. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat until I become a skeleton sitting her with absolutely no more knowledge of her condition than when i started.

That's right, I'm upset about that. Why Because in a hospital where the amount of patients in the waiting room is less than the number of people who stop by the company every day, you start to get nervous. Especially when they're supposed to be relaying information about your one possibly dead friend. Especially when you feel like you're about to explode.

Journal, I think I'm going insane. This whole ordeal is already driving me insane. I've been here about an hour and I'm already three steps away from having a panic attack or a mental breakdown. Great. Just great.

And then I realize how selfish I am. While I'm worried about my panicking, she's laying on a table, no control over anything that happens to her, in the middle of life saving surgery. And after said surgery, the nurse assured me that they will have to cast some of her bones and check for any other conditions. Of course these conditions would only be leading to more surgery. I should be in there with her. I should be watching and making sure she doesn't wake up in the middle and freak out. I should be holding her hand, or at least metaphorically holding her hand through a glass window. That would even be enough right now. I should be making sure the doctors don't give up on her. Because I refuse to.

Another nurse walks by, and from what I remember, I grab the sleeve of her scrubs and force her to stop. There's some frantic arguing between us, and she calls me crazy. And then finally, I get what I need. I get to see Scene as soon as she's out of surgery.

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A/N- SOOOO sorry I didn't upload on schedule yesterday! I will make sure to do so next week. Please, as usual, feel free to use corrections in the reviews so I can make my chapters the best they can be. And next, we will get to see what Scene looks like post surgery and post accident, so leave other things that could be wrong with her in the review too if you can so that I can have more ideas. Thanks for reading!


	3. Seeing Scene

Dear journal,

Seriously, where was this surgery? Mars? It seemed to be taking hours. My eyes dare not look at a clock, for fear time had literally stopped. What happens then?Would she ever return from that metal table?

I feel my stomach clench as I think about the weight of what I just thought. She's going to be fine. Perfectly fine. She's going to be the same beautiful Scene she was before, and I'm gonna help her as she needs. She'll return to work and receive gentle hugs from everyone and Idol will blast our social networks with declarations of her health . It'll be fine.

And I'm broken from my thoughts and a nurse is standing in front of me. She's saying something but I don't know if I can hear it. My throat is dry. I might vomit. Somehow I'm standing.

We walk down a hallway completely white hallway, darkened rooms on my left and right. I don't want to look into any of them. I know if I do I'm gonna compare her accident with others. I want to have more respect than that. She deserves that much.

We come to room 100 and the nurse opens the door with a key card. The click sounds deadly loud. The nurse reassures me that she'll be down the hall. I mumble whatever. Worry has numbed me anyway. And then I get a look at the victim.

Her stomach was wrapped in gauze, her hands enclosed over it like A shield. Casts adorned her arms and one leg, all of them hanging from pulley's that were attached to the ceiling. They hung limply in the air, her body at an odd angle to support these needs. My mouth drops open in shock.

Wires were attached to her body, hooked up to machines that kept beeping. The sounds pierced the silence of the room and make it almost unbearable. I cover my ears.

Cuts cover what wasn't wrapped,her makeup smudged in an attempt to wash off her wounds. Her eyes are gently closed. If we were in a different situation I might think she was asleep. And then it happens.

My body feels warm and my eyes hot. The floodgates open. Tears stream down my face. I remember saying 'oh god Scene' a bunch of times and ending up sitting in the floor.  
Journal, yes I know I cared a lot. Maybe even too much. But there's a small confession I should tell you. I love her. More than a friend and sister. I love her enough to run to a hospital, wait about two hours for her surgery to be over, and then sit on a hospital floor and cry as I see her.

She just looked so fragile and small, like she did when Indie constantly rejected her. I saw the hurt on her face, and the insecurity behind her words. Almost like a child. I want to hug her. Awkwardly lace my arms around her and say that it'll be okay. Even though I don't know that fact, I want to make her believe it.

The nurse comes back in and sees me on the floor, gently interlacing my hand with hers and helping me up. Grabbing a chair, she lets go and I sit awkwardly, looking at the elephant in the room so to speak. How can a simple act of awfulness do something so bad to someone so good?

I ask the nurse shakily when she'll be released. I think she said tomorrow or the next day. They want to observe. And then it hits me.

I have to tell my co-workers what happened. I have to explain why Scene and I didn't come back after lunch. I have to explain why there's a chance neither of us are coming in tomorrow. (I refuse to leave her side.) I have to make arrangements for someone else to do MyMusic news tomorrow and have them figure out what to say. And then the scariest part. We have to tell the fans.

While the nurse is checking Scene's blood pressure, I excuse myself and walk out of the room, heading down the hall with my thoughts trapped in my head. How in he hell am I supposed to do this? How do I explain that happy and spontaneous Scene got in a life threatening accident? This morning she was perfectly fine. Almost beaming with happiness. Now I don't know if I'll ever see that smile again.

The nurse told me she was perfectly fine. But, journal, that's also what they told he parents, and they're not exactly here to comfort her, are they?

Anger is ebbing through my body as I flip open the phone and make the first call. I don't even look at the number. All of my co-workers are on speed dial.

Two rings and then Indie picks up the phone. Crap. This isn't who I wanted to speak to first. I would rather speak to anyone but him first. I would rather speak to Dubstep than Indie. My thoughts are cut off by his harsh hello.

The words tumble out of my mouth, I can hardly understand them. The line is silent for some time, the silence hurting more than the situation. I was hoping it'd be easier than this. What happened next I can only list, as it seemed to happen so fast and took me by surprise I don't even remember most of what happened. Therefore I can only list it in this journal instead of describing it.

-indie asks how long she's in the hospital. His voice is gentle for once. I notice he hasn't yelled at me so far.  
- I answer honestly  
-he makes a comment about both of us needing the time off  
-I ask about why me  
- he says (and I quote) you'll be spending the item with her right?

Normally Indie barely gives me the time of day without an insult, and yet here he is, talking to me like he cares about us. It feels strange. Unsafely unplugging a USB from a computer strange.  
We hang up after a bit of broken conversation more, and I head back to the room. The others don't have to know yet. It can just be me and Scene for a bit.

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A/N- hey guys. I know. I don't upload one week and then upload the day I'm supposed to upload the next chapter. I'll handle it later. Amy way, I hope you like :) love you all see you hopefully soon!


	4. I'm waking up

Dear Journal,

I'm sitting beside her, gently cupping her hand in mine. She hasn't moved for the full time she's been like this, and I almost have to keep checking her pulse to be sure she's alive. Her skin feels clammy (the doctor tells me that's from acute dehydration and that they have an IV giving her nutrients) and her eyes are still gently closed, giving off the impression of a sleeping preteen.

The doctor told me that she should wake up soon (as the anesthetic wore off), and while that should make me feel better, it only fills me up with worry. There's no telling how'd she react to her accident, or what she'd remember. And what will she do when she sees that her work friend is the only one there for her? What about when she sees that Indie isn't here? And the matter of her was a recipe for disaster.

The machine is still way too loud, and I'm still on the verge of tears for the duration of what seems like every second, but I dare not cry. I'm afraid she'll wake up and completely freak out when she sees my tears. She's already been through surgery. She doesn't need a panic attack on top of that.

A sudden urge to check her chart fills me, and I cannot refuse. I want to see what's **really** wrong with her. I want to see all she's had done and what her recovery might be like. I want to see for her. I let go of her hand and shakily get up, walking to the edge of the bed where I see the clipboard. Picking it up, I read the first page nervously.

Apparently, she came in with a bleeding stomach, a broken rib, a concussion, and several other broken bones. That must be why the surgery took so long. They must've had to fix all of her problems in a short amount (didn't seem so short to me) of time.

My mouth tasted like someone poured copper down my throat, and I force back my tears. That seems to be such a problem today. I should get back to her side now. I've done what I've wanted and now it's time to be next to her.

Except, I keep reading. It says that her vitals were a little low, though still presenting around average, and although they would continuously check for any slippage, they didn't see much clear or present danger. I allow myself a rare sigh of relief. One less thing to lose sleep over.

As my eyes scan the pages and take in the information, something distracts me. A soft sigh. The shuffle of sheets. I drop the clipboard and turn to the clock. It's been an hour since her surgery. She's waking up.

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A/N- I'm SOOOOOO sorry! My internet was bad for a month so I typed it on my iPad and now that won't connect to the internet so I have to re-type everything onto the computer and spell check it and everything. And then came the matter of procrastination. And this chapter is sooo short :( Buut I promise I'll stick to a Friday schedule come heck or high water. Please don't come after me with pitchforks! As always, please feel free to review and leave suggestions for what can be better in my writing. I can only grow as a write with your help! Bye, and thanks for reading!


	5. white lies and mysteries

Dear Journal,

She's in and out of sleep, the events of this afternoon taking a toll on her small body. She's not talking much, and she seems unhappy, but I can't blame her. Would you be happy if you found that you got run over by a car and left for dead?

When Scene woke up she freaked out, what with the machines and the completely white room and me being the only one there. Luckily, my worries were useless as she didn't think about her parents and their unfortunate situation. (and how she almost was reunited with them) She did, however, ask if her co-workers knew about this accident and stopped in, and then subtlety tried to hint at Indie. But I didn't have the heart to tell her that he knew about this and wasn't here. So I had to tell a little white lie and say that he didn't know. Luckily, she bought it. For now.

When Scene is not asleep, she'll listen to whatever I have to tell her intently, whatever the subject may be. So far I've told her a story about a sea captain and a story about a rock star. She still laughs the same too. Damn I love her laugh.

The nurse says that her vitals are getting better. She's really being strong about this. I literally can't be any happier right now. When she first woke up, she saw me crying, but for a different reason than before. It wasn't a cry of possible loss, it was a cry of happiness. All of my worries slipped away through my tears. I want to hug her. However, this is made impossible by the pulleys and casts. Unless I want to try another awkward hug. Although I don't know who'd that console.

The nurse hasn't told Scene exactly what she's been through. We seem to have this unspoken agreement to let sleeping dogs lie. Unless she asks, we beat around the bush. It's worked so far but I know she wants more information. I'll give that to her when I think she can handle it. Yes, I'm being incredibly secretive and bad about this, but I don't want to get her so worked up that she goes into shock. She freaked out over Invader Zimm. How do I know she can handle this?

I also still don't know when I'm telling my other workmates. There's the whole matter of 'why didn't you tell us before' and then all of the commotion of them trying to visit might overwork the fragile patient. I'm lucky I can visit her now. But Indie must have told them something, right? He can't be keeping this to himself. Should I see when Scene wants to tell them? But Scene knows less than I. Should the nurse tell them? How do these things work again?

This is too much pressure. It's making my head spin. That's when I remember. She hasn't eaten lunch yet. She's probably starving.

I ask the doctor if she can eat, and she says that she cannot until about two hours. It's because of the surgery. And even then they have to feed her things like soup. She groans at this. She's not a fan of soup. I laugh at her distaste and she sticks out her tongue. Glad to see that the old Scene hasn't left quite yet. Even through this horrible time there's a glimmer of her left.

There's still the other and semi unrelated matter of why Scene wasn't at work and why she was going to her apartment about fifteen minutes before twelve. (that's the amount of time they estimate she's been there. Fifteen minutes) She never misses work. **Either** job. They say they found a grocery bag laying on the sidewalk. But who's bag was it? Why was it just laying there? Was there someone else at the scene who could tell us more? Though I want to think about none of this, it all comes slithering in, like a great serpent. So many unanswered questions and not enough strength in her to actually answer any. maybe we can get some answers when the counselor and the police come. They want her to talk it out and file a report. She's not so sure that's a great idea. Another mystery among seemingly thousands. I rub my forehead. This is already stressful.

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A/N- Annnnd, I've already missed the schedule. By a day though *scratches forehead* well this is awkward. Hi guys! I hope you like this chapter. I wanna reply to some reviews cause I'm bored like that. (wow I'm lame)

fashionrox669- I was kind of trying to elude to the fact that her parents can't be there, but I did that horribly. I tried? *laughs* and I didn't realize that Journal wasn't always capitalized. From now on it's going to be capitalized.

The Night Owl Revolution- Thanks for not pitchforking me! My unpitchforked body thanks you too. And t least she doesn't know yet, right? Can't imagine what will happen when she does figure it out. *nudges* oh I'm evil :)

Thanks also to Annabeth Everdeen, ShadowhunterMockingjay, Fionathenerd,Sasaphrinascream, and veryBerry69 for reviewing also. Yay! *gives everyone a GIANT virtual cookie. Puts on hipster glasses* Cause normal virtual cookies are too mainstream

Bye and thanks for reading.


	6. After the Drama

A/N- Okay, so an absence this long deserves an explanation. Sadly, I don't have a good one, so I'm forced to make due with my crappy explanation of crappiness. First, I had no ideas for the chapter and was full of anger-frustration that I almost gave up, and then my internet crashed, For like a month. Completely legit story. But here' the next chapter, and while I was in social solitude; I wrote the next two chapters after this! So yay!

Also: I'm in the middle of reading The Fault In Our Stars, so this might sound a little Hazel-like in sarcasm, but you can't blame a girl for loving a book. Also this chapter kind of passes out of character and weird town and takes a left at crazy-ville.

Read on wisely, my friends. Read on wisely.

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Dear Journal,

After the quick events that can only be described as 'made for tv drama', the rest of the day seems to be going by at a crawl. We watch cartoons and I make Scene drink all of her soup, to which she protests greatly. Apparently she really hates soup, and though I don't know why, it's kind of funny in the worst way possible.

The nurse and I are becoming friends now, which is a lot different than me hating her like I did before. I'd say it's mostly gratitude for picking me up from the floor, but friendship comes in weird places. Just look at me and Idol, or me and Rayna. And honestly, I've only hated her because she had association with the hospital, and therefore, the accident.

Anyway, the nurse keeps coming in and checking on Scene, but she's being weird about it. She keeps looking at me and I don't know what it's about. Today, she almost poured hot soup on Scene's lap like an eclectic caretaker to an old person. The reason for this mishap? If I'm not mistaken, it's the fact that she was batting her eyes at me like Scene does to Indie. At least I think she was. Maybe she likes me! I really can't tell, and I don't really like her back. I honestly don't Journal. Honestly. But, she ... likes... me?

This brings up another, less Scene related, question. Would I be considered... attractive? I mean, I know I'm sort of in shape (blobbly is a shape) and I have cool colored hair. But on the other side, I do tend to talk overtly about flow charts and I'm not very good at making conversation with most girls.

So, Journal, what makes a man (or boy-man-blob) attractive? 'Cause apparently Indie's really attractive. And I look nothing like him. My Aunt says everyone's attractive in their own way, so I want to say yes. I'm not used to being attractive. What do attractive people wear? Where do they go? What dialect do they speak? Is Indie considered attractive to other girls? Who are these girls? Is there a science to this? I can follow science. I'm actually capable of following a scientific formula to the key of attractiveness. Does Scene find me attractive? (How does every question somehow lead back to her? is this it's own question?)

As I'm writing this, Scene is laughing from her bed, the same tinkling laugh from before. I can't tell if this is because of the cartoon that she finds funny or the fact that she can probably read what I'm writing and finds the prospect of my attractiveness a joke. Probably the second. I look up at the cartoon and see my hand smudged from covering the wet pen ink that once lay beautiful on the page. The animal on the show is in front of a mirror. I look at Scene, who seems to get an idea in her brain.

"Can I please get a mirror?" She asks the nurse as she comes in, and the nurse goes out before even checking her blood pressure. I could tell there was something more under the whole 'checking out your face' thing. She looked at me nervously as the nurse hands me the mirror. I smile back.

As I hold up the object, I see Scene close and then open her eyes. Every freckle and bandage is examined. Every piece of dirt that stuck to her skin is looked at. She's almost like an inspector in a factory. That thought makes me nervous. What if she considers herself a reject? Because she's in no way a reject. She's the best person I know.

After a minute of Scene scrutinizing her reflection, I get a phone call from work. I put the mirror down on the bed and Scene and the nurse start to talk as I leave the room. I can't completely hear it, but there seems to be an edge of cattiness to their voices.

"Hello." I already know who it is, so there's no use framing it like a question. And I'm not exactly happy to hear from Indie either. Not at this point in time, anyway.

"Intern2! How's Scene? Is she dead? Is she fine? Send me pics so I can update her social networks!" Okay, however Idol got onto Indie's phone aside; she was screeching in my ear and asking strange questions.

"Scene isn't dead, Idol. She's not great, but she's halfway around okay. And I'm not going to send you pics of Scene post-surgery so you can post them on Twitter with a colon and a left parenthesis sad face!" I was getting angry, I know. I need to work on my anger issues that I don't have. But you can't just go posting pictures of Scene like she's one of those children from third world countries from the commercials. I'm not accepting donations. You can't help her for pennies a day.

"Great! She's oookay!" The blond on the other end sounded like she was typing something into a computer as she was talking. "And you said she had... surgery?" Finally, Idol seemed to show at least a little compassion. I still heard her usual sense of social networking priority and her usual giddiness, but at least she seemed a little scared for Scene's well being.

"Yeah, she's out and awake now. Kind of touch and go during surgery for me at least, but she's okay now."

"Okeydokey! Tell Scene I send my best wishes from everyone at MyMusic and we hope to see her soon!" With that, she hung up. And good too, because even though I meant well, Idol was giving me a migraine. Walking back to the room, I saw Scene and the nurse talking again. It looked nicer, but I didn't feel like walking in. Wandering off, I reached the cafeteria and ate. That's literally the end of my entry for this afternoon. I ate a sandwich. I told you nothing much interesting happened. Unless you find the contents of my sandwich interesting, Journal, in which case, I really need a life.

P.S- I don't know why I started including quotation marks into this. Maybe it's a change. Maybe I wanted a change after Scene woke up.


	7. insecurities

Dear Journal,

Today has been nothing short of a train wreck. I'm actually writing this from the ground in the hospital hallway, but that all connects in later, so I have to get the full story out before I get to that part.

So first, things have been kind of rigid between Scene and the nurse today, and I have a feeling the catty chatter did them in. Another nurse has been servicing her all morning. I have a strange hunch this wasn't an accident. I also have a new feeling that the nurse was only looking at me to make sure I don't burst into tears again, but my theory doesn't totally add up. I know for a fact that Scene's been getting those 'are you okay' looks her whole life, and even she told me those were not the same.

Speaking of Scene, today something really weird happened with her. She wasn't her normal chatty self. She seemed to be really focusing on her casts on her arms and legs, even looking at them while she talked to me. When she did look at me, her brown eyes looked solemn. It seemed like she had a lot on her mind. Around ten in the morning she finally popped the question.

"Intern2." She had cut me off in the middle of my conversation about work and the office and I remember being mad at her for that. But the voice she used made me a tad less angry. It sounded nervous and soft, like a child asking their parent something they didn't really want to know the answer to. I just nodded. She barely talked since her breakfast and I wanted to hear what she had to say.

"Yeah, Scene?" This whole conversation was making me nervous, the kind of nervous you get in middle school when talking to a girl for the first time. I don't think I ever truly had a real and completely serious conversation with her.

"Am I?" Short pause and a gulp. She was hesitating. I tried to tell her to continue on with my eyes, but I think it looked like I had to go to the bathroom. Either way it got the point across.

"Well, am I ugly?" Her words hit me like a knife. A butcher knife to the stomach. She was in no way ugly! I've already written that she was the most beautiful thing in the world to me and I don't lie. Never. Before I knew what was happening, I was energetically shaking my head in argument.

"No! You're not ugly in the least! What would make you say that?" She shrugged at my words and looked down at the bed sheets. They seemed to be her solitude.

"My Aunt. After my parent's death, she came in and went to see me. I heard her whispering to the doctor that she didn't want an ugly child." Scene seemed close to tears now, and I gently shook her knee. Sitting next to someone on a bed certainly has its benefits.

"Well, your Aunt is wrong! Dead wrong!" Okay, bad use of words. At least she seemed to laugh at my horrible choice, although it was more of an exhale out with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. I'm still taking it. We needed a happiness in that moment and that was all we had.

"I just realized that I've never told anyone the story." She seemed extremely interested in her lap just then, and it was obvious that this was weighing on her mind. It was like she was trying to carry the weight of the world, and it was obvious that she was trying to carry it herself. I just listened as she spoke and cried. her arm was now casted and free, and she moved it slightly to get me to hold it. Though holding a hand in a cast was hard and therefore I was holding her pointer finger.

And then, Journal, I did something I'm both proud, and not proud of. I kissed her. Square on the lips. I couldn't help it! She was rushing through her words about her crying every day and she seemed like a tick ready to pop and I had to shut her up. In the nicest way possible, of course. I heard girls love when you kiss them to shut them up.

I leaned over and pressed my lips against hers as gentle as possible. The machines were now the only noisy things in the room. I've never felt so proud to hear Scene stop talking. It took a few seconds, but she kissed back, and she did it with pride. She was happy that this was happening. That's the second notable thing that happened today. And yes, I'd hate to be cheesy, but my heart still flutters as I write this.

The kiss seemed to last forever, even though it lasted for about three seconds and the television was on the whole time. For lack of a better word, I'm describing it as totally awesome. Is that what the kids are saying these days? Something like that. I'm going to be honest and say that her lips tasted like tomato soup and strawberries. Weird combination, but somehow, it worked.

The third notable thing happened after Scene went to bed. I walked out of her room, with something aching in the pit of my stomach. To be honest, the aching i my stomach had started about five minutes after I kissed her. I felt like I had taken advantage of Scene by kissing her. She was vulnerable; and I came in with my "romantic" moves and kissed her? She didn't even like me anyway. Scene loved Indie. I was in the friend zone. It was simple to see. All I've done is confuse her. She doesn't need that now. Not with everything else going on. So why did I want more? Why did I want to ruin everything this crush didn't have? I was so wrapped up in anger that I did another thing I'm not proud of. I punched the wall as hard as I could. My hand didn't go through like hands do in the movies, instead the knuckles started bleeding and tingles of pain went through it. Awesome.

Tears rolled down my face at the pain and my frustration, and I sunk to the floor. It seriously hurts! And that's where our story ends; on the floor of the hospital with me getting blood all over the jeans I wore yesterday, angsting about a kiss that happened an hour ago. Luckily, Scene's asleep and happy, while I'm out here writing and crying. At least one of us is winning now.

* * *

A/N- how deliciously angsty! Okay, but after a boring chapter of nothing happening, someone needed to turn the drama up and that was the way I was doing it. At least we have a Scenetern2 kiss to smile about! After seven chapters they finally kissed! Thanks for reading:)


	8. are we a thing now?

Dear Journal,

I awaken on the cold floor of the hospital, my mouth feeling dry and my head in a fog. It takes me a second to actually remember everything, though when the memories come crashing back it seems to hurt more. My hand throbs. A nurse wrapped it in gauze and stopped the bleeding. I don't even have to place money to tell you who it was.

I'm almost stepped on by a short lady in a pair of crocs and I quickly force myself up from the floor. Though sitting feels better than standing, this nurse reminded me of Scene. I need to go see her. I need to apologize for the kiss and then figure out a way to make things less awkward. Because that's the way it always is after an unwanted kiss. Awkward and tense.

Though I expect the worse, when I enter her room she's all smiles. A different cartoon than yesterday's plays softly in the background, though I don't think anyone was watching it. I wave back, trying my best to seem normal.

I've never exactly been religious, but I send a silent prayer out that she doesn't hate me. Or that no one saw the kiss last night. I don't want anyone besides us to know what happened and if that means that we pretend it never happened, then so be it. Even though that's the last thing I want to happen.

"Hi, Intern2!" Scene calls happily from the bed, breaking my prayer and sending a smile to my face. She's happy again. Did my kiss work? That's actually really cool then. I'm like medicine! Blobby, attractive, medicine.

"Hey, Scene. Getting your blood pressure taken?" She nods and looks at the indicator, watching the number rise as she squints in pain. The procedure must be almost over, because the cuff is squeezing her arm tight. As the procedure finishes up and after the nurse unwraps the cuff, she marks something on Scene's chart and leaves. I kind of wish she would stay so we wouldn't have to talk about this, but apparently the odds were not in my favor.

"About last night.." Her voice trails off and a red blush fills her formally pale face. I must say, blush does look good on her. Though her voice is serious, she's smiling a bit and her eyes still look kind. Can't she just choose one emotion instead of confusing me with three?

"I'm sorry, I know you love Indie and I stepped all over that." I make no move to sit. I'm afraid sitting would make the crushing news harder. The news that she hates me or that she wants to stay 'just friends' as the kids call it. Though she now seems as confused as I am.

"What are you sorry about? I've been waiting on you to do that for a while now!" Her face is all smiles as she talks. She's being genuine! She actually liked the kiss! My heart flutters again. Can being in love give you a heart attack?

"What about Indie?" She shrugs her shoulders as if it's not a big wedge in the middle of our whole thing. That's so exciting to say! We have a thing! I never knew I'd be acting like Scene usually does when this happens, though I did read somewhere that love brings out the weirdness in people. I guess my weird side is Scene's normal side.

"I like Indie, but I love you." Seeing as my chair was close to her bed, I stood up and kissed her again, to which she took and kissed back. As we break apart we both smile wider.

"So, does this mean we're a thing now?" Yes, I had to be the one to ruin the comfortable silence with the age-old question. But I'm still a little confused by what happened! She rolled her eyes and nodded.

"Scenetern2?" She says our ship name and I laugh a little. People on the internet sometimes have no idea how right they are sometimes.

"Scenetern2." It feels almost like we're toasting our new relationship when said like this, and I can't resist laughing again. It hardly even feels like we're in a hospital anymore, though the beeping of the machines makes it obvious we are. Words cannot describe how much I hate those machines.

We watch a cartoon that I don't really understand but she loves, she has lunch (soup again) and then they check her blood pressure. Everything seems utterly uneventful, so I start reading her The Fault in Our stars by my phone. She seems to like my reading voice, and she settles in as if I was telling her a bedtime story. It's nice for something to be calm for a change. Until of course she sees a man in a blue uniform by the nurse's desk.

"Who's that?" I look up and see the man, deep in conversation. He's nodding at something the nurse is saying. Every few seconds he looks over at her room as if to make sure we weren't listening.

"That's a police officer. He probably wants to talk about your case." Scene sits up quickly, wincing in pain as she does. Her face looks pale now. She's biting her lip as if she's in danger. Something is dead wrong. Another man walks over. His nametag says that he's a doctor. Probably a hospital psychologist.

I continue reading the book to her to try and get her mind off of things, though she no longer seems focused. I can't help but wonder why she's so scared of the police officer.

* * *

A/N- Okay, for the Fault in Our Stars part, I'm a huge fangirl of the book and I wanted to add it in. And how cute was this chapter? Don't worry though, because I'm secretly evil, the next two are going to be angst filled. And after the next chapter comes the big reveal of what really happened with Scene and the driver. So yay, thanks for reading :)


	9. more lies and possible crime

Dear Journal,

I'm back out in the hallway, writing furiously while sitting on the floor. Frustration is bubbling in my stomach, and I find that I want to yell at something, through I don't know what yet. Actually, I do know what, but that what happens to be my girlfriend. Something is seriously wrong with Scene! We've been talking to the police for two hours before I was able to excuse myself; and in that time she said about three things that are true. Why would she lie to the police? Wait, you don't know the story yet. Well, our conversation went somewhat exactly like this, complete with eye-rolling and arguing.

"Norma?" It took Scene a second to respond to her name, though she nodded and welcomed the officer the best she could. To be honest, we aren't called by our real names a lot, and I think Scene forgot hers for a second. It happens to all of us sometimes, and always is cause for laughter in the office.

"We just want to get some information. It's to help you." Besides the fact that the psychiatrist was talking to her like she was eight, he seemed vaguely German. It reminded me of a movie cliché seen thousands of times. Scene nodded as he crossed his legs. Both officials got out notebooks and pens to record the answers.

"Tell us of the events leading up to the crash."

"Well, I had off today.." I tuned out for a second after that. That, Journal, marks our first lie. She never had off that day. That's why I was worrying about her all morning! "And I wanted to buy some groceries. So I go to the store to buy these groceries and as I'm walking out and into the street, a drunk driver comes out of nowhere and rams into me." Second lie. Unless she put the bags on the sidewalk before crossing the street, this is our second lie. And third. She hardly ever eats real meals, so why would she need as many groceries as they found? Nothing was adding up.

"And then what happened?" These idiots were buying it too! At this point I had to say something. She is my girlfriend (still love saying that) but hindering a police investigation is a serious crime, and she's hindering her own investigation! Is that even a thing that normal people do? Why am I assuming she was ever normal?

"Officer?" I gulped before continuing at that point, nervous about ratting out Scene. But maybe she made a mistake or something. Maybe I could steer everyone in the right direction. Yes, Journal, I have a tendency to think of the best situation. It works well to get jobs done. "Um, Scene-uh- Norma here didn't have off today. She missed work for some reason." The police officer wrote this down quickly, eyes focused on the paper. As the man wrote, Scene gave me a glare I tried to ignore.

"Anything else, sir?" Now the officer wanted my side of the story. This was something I wasn't exactly prepared to give.

"Well, the day she got hit was the anniversary of her parents death." I saw Scene blink rapidly as if holding back tears. My heart sank.

"I'm sorry, it's very emotional. My parents died in a car crash and I can't help but think-" She sniffed and both of the professionals smiled sympathetically. I rubbed Scene's upper arm gently because I obviously couldn't hold her hand. And comforting people always comforted me, and I needed to be comforted about half as much as she did. "Can we have a minute?" The officials nodded before she finished talking and walked outside. Right away I was looked dead in the eyes. It wasn't her 'I'm happy to see you' look either. It was an angry look I've almost never seen.

"Scene, what are you doing?" She wiped away the tears from her cheeks with her cast.

"I'm not ready to tell them what happened. I can't." I looked at my girlfriend incredulously.

"But they can help you!" Nothing seemed to be making sense from the moment the police walked into the hospital. It was like all the files in her head were gone and replaced by nothingness. Someone needed to tell me what was going on before I tried to punch another hole in a thing.

I'm going to tell you a secret, Journal. I hate being lied to. Everyone always backstabs and lies in school and it makes me want to barf. Mostly because I was the one getting backstabbed. But after those experiences, I grew sick of lying and now it's my number one pet peeve.

"No, they really can't. Please just support me. I swear it's for us." Okay, to be honest, this was starting to sound like she was an international criminal. She looked deep into my eyes now. "Please." I sighed.

"Fine. But please don't rope me into anymore crimes. I really don't want to be in jail. I'm too pretty to get hurt!" She laughed at my joke and the officials turned around. "She's been comforted and she's feeling better." They nodded at my words and walked into the room.

"So he left the crime scene?" She nodded again. "How long were you laying there?" I held my breath and waited for Scene to answer. She had a tell when she lied and it was that she would scratch her cast on the sheet. She did just that.

"About ten minutes. Someone in the store noticed that I was lying awkwardly in the street and called the police. At least that's what he told me. I was in and out at the time." The police officer looked straight at me (and through my soul) and I nodded awkwardly. Inwardly I wished I was back at work now, writing flowcharts and getting paid nothing for abuse. I mean, I love Scene, but this lying thing was making my heart race. I still had no idea what the true story of the accident was! Or if why she was actually lying in the first place!

And that conversation is literally why I'm sitting in the hallway now. She was lying too much. Later, she lied and said that she didn't know me (which hurt) and she lied about pretty much everything in her life. They're questioning here alone now, and I don't know whether or not to tell them the truth.

* * *

A/N- I'm going to admit that this was not my best chapter. But it's the last chapter before the drama llama starts and I'm really excited for that! Which is weird, because the drama llama is going to be sad. Ooh I should mention that this llama might be TRIGGERING to some people so please read with caution. Alright, bye, bye.


	10. The confessions of a non-emo

Dear journal,

I'm sitting on the floor again, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. I can barely breathe, and I'm sure the nurse is two seconds away from admitting me into the hospital along with my new girlfriend. Although she would probably like that too much. It would mean she gets to be around me that much more. Seriously though, today was insane. (really bad choice of words)

Scene called us all into the room again about an hour ago. There was a change in her body language that I could understand, but apparently the officials didn't . She was feeling guilty. She admitted that she lied about the accident and wanted to tell us the truth. we all sat and waited for her to begin.

So the day she got hit was the anniversary of her parents death as you know. That's why she took the day off. Witnesses said her hair was unkempt and her clothes were wrinkled when they saw her. She was feeling depressed, she told us. Around noon she went for some food in this condition, though she bought random items she would never eat. To the anwser of that we still don't know, though the psychologist has a theory. (Have I mentioned I never liked psychologists?) A boy was playing in the road when she went into the store. Scene said she did nothing because no cars were coming and she was busy texting me to notice much. This was true. I never deleted those texts. Maybe I'll write them in later.

It all changed when she came out of the store. The kid was still playing in the road, but now she saw a car coming their way. This is when it gets bad. Really bad. She said she felt depressed lately and a wave of something washed over her. This made me feel sick. I knew what was coming.

"It was like I understood." Her words. Not mine. She said that if she had to go out she could do it kindly. She could save another person's life. Be remembered as a martyr and not the scene we knew. Well that was bad news. I love the Scene I know. And I know a lot of others who do also.

"So I ran out. I pushed the kid aside and 'didn't get away in time' (air quotes, air quotes). The kid fell safely away and I took the impact." Again, her words. Never mine.

Tears were falling from both of our eyes now. The police officer was scratching his beard and the psychologist was staring awkwardly at us. I felt a shiver up my spine that had everything to do with the situation. She wouldn't look anyone in the eye. The cop sighed. He wasn't sure if he had a case anymore. It seemed to take an eternity of beeping for anything to say anything. I felt ringing in my ears.

" I'm going to put in an order for transfer. Psych wing." I lost my breath at that moment. Her brown eyes widened in fear. I felt sick to my stomach again. The police man stood up and sighed.

" We can get the driver for being drunk but that's about it. We don't have much of a case. " The psychologist let himself out and went to talk to a nurse. The police officer left unnanouced. He would come back when she was deemed mentally stable and would check for a case then, although he was mumbling about wasting his time. Uncompassionate cops.

I wanted to say so much to her during the time we had, but nothing came out. It was like I had a block on my brain. Only one word questions could form and they were hard to formulate. If you don't know what this feels like, imagine something you love. Really love. Doesn't have to be a person. Now imagine finding out a horrible secret about this thing that breaks your heart.

"Why?" My voice cracked. She didn't look at me. My words sounded almost ant sized compared to the mighty attack of her confession.

"Reasons, Intern2. " her voice was soft and barely audible. We had reached another hurdle in the relationship already. Why did this have to happen so quickly?

"Please." We only had so much time left before she got transferred and treated. I wanted answers. Enough to get me through at least. My voice must've gave her initiative.

"I thought I was alone." She fiddled with he fingers.

"You have me!" I wanted to cry again. How did she not know I was always there? I thought I was being rather obvious.

"I didn't think I did. No one but my mean aunt. And Indie just HATES me. And I thought you didn't love me." For some reason I had to prove my love to her. And so I leaned over and kissed her on the lips gently. she kissed back. We stayed like this for abotu ten seconds and then pulled away. However, something felt different. It was like there was a wall between us now.

An hour later, they started moving her bed away. I held onto her index finger until I couldn't anymore and then sat stubbornly on the floor like a child. I didn't care who stepped on me or who's way I was in. They were taking away a Scene who wasn't even Scene.

Now that I've calmed down a bit, here are the texts:

_Me: hey, Scene, where are you?_

_Scene: sik day. Watching toons and eating kool-aid mix_

_Me: right. Sorry for your loss._

_Scene: Thx. Pls text me tho_

_Scene: Wat's Indie doing?_

_Me: using me as a footstool._

_Scene: lol._

_Scene: listen to this song?  
Me: sure I can listen as I work_

at this point she sent me a file with some garbled music on it.

_me: What song is this_

_Scenes: Sail. Its by awolnation_

_Me: isn't that more of dubsteps things?_

_Scene: I can like the song too Intern2_

I listened to the song again on Youtube. Thinking back, it made sense. In fact, thinking back, the whole thing made sense. She gave me her favorite bracelet yesterday and looked very worried when I asked why. She's been taking care to say her goodbyes when she leaves my desk. I wonder if Scene's smarter than I thought. Maybe she was trying to tell me about these thoughts without freaking me out.

* * *

A/N- Must. Resist. Urge. To. Apolgize. Profusely. SORRY! You know, for all the angst that's going around. Man, it's like a cold in my story *sniff* but I decided that this is going to be like a thought generator and a scrapbook (for things like the texts and such) for the next couple of chapter as he kind of tries to get through this. I'm also thinking of doing a chapter with oth Intern2 and Scene's journals in it back to back about the same event, and that may be next chapter. Also, my computer broke again and I couldn't figure out the password to this site for like a week. *sigh* I am like a hot mess.


End file.
